


An Off Day

by CannibalKats



Series: Catalyst [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Job, Edging, M/M, Over stimulation, Phone Sex, Teasing, Yooran, jerking off, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats





	1. Chapter 1

Things have been busy since Saeran had admitted to Ayame Yi that he wanted to be an art teacher.  It had seemed to give his mentor some kind of renewed purpose and suddenly he found himself spending more and more time at the condo she shared with V, going over curriculum and helping her with grading.  He didn’t mind, not really.  

Yoosung would tag along when he wasn’t busy with his own school work.  But now fast on his way to finishing his Veterinary program his boyfriend had started volunteering with animal shelters and accepting any extra clinic shifts he was offered. Recently that was most evenings and weekends and it had been too long since either had gotten an evening at home let alone together.

Yoosung has a rare day off today but Saeran has class and finds himself roped into another evening with Ayame, staring at progress reports for the sophomore classes final projects.  Saeran appreciates what she’s trying to do, and normally he would be happy to sit in Vs airconditioned condo with it’s floor to ceiling windows.  Normally he found the view relaxing regardless of what his mentor and friend had in store for him.

Today he’d been off.  It’s not a concerning kind off.  Not the kind of bad day that had him dipping into his  _ as needed _ bag of meds, or calling his therapist for a last minute appointment.  Not the kind of off day that put Yoosung on alert, or had his brother checking in.

It was simply off.

_ Probably _ , he considers as he ignores Ayame’s fourth or fifth attempt to make him laugh, it had something to do with the way Yoosung had looked when he got up in the morning.  At first he cursed that his boyfriend  _ actually _ got to sleep in and then he cursed him for looking  _ so fucking gorgeous _ with his sleepy eyes half lidded watching him from their bed.  Or maybe it was the way that the blankets had twisted up around Yoosung’s hips exposing just enough skin to make Saeran consider being late for class.

Just as he started to unbutton the Jeans he’s just pulled on Yoosung had snored and the moment had passed.  Saeran had grabbed a cereal bar and left to catch his bus a little disappointed but looking forward to coming right home after class to cash in all the promises Yoosung’s sleeping body had made.

His phone chimes with a notification from the RFA app and Saeran stops what he’s doing to stretch and get a drink while he checks out the chatroom.  Yoosung had wasted most of his day there bored and waiting for someone to come along and entertain him.

[Yoosung]: [cry emoji] I’m stuck here all alone and the servers are down, this is the worst.

Saeran pauses before he responds, he leans on the counter and stares past V at his desk, and Ayame on the sofa, he stares out over the city chasing some absent thought he couldn’t quite catch as text scrolls past on his phone.  

It’s early evening and everyone but V is in the chatroom.

[V has entered the chatroom]

Saeran glances up but he can see V still editing photos at his computer and Ayame smirking over her prize.

[Yoosung]: V! Are they almost done?  It’s my only day off!   
[V]: Oh no, they have HOURS of work.  I think Saeran’s going to have to stay in the guest room tonight.   
[707]: GASP!!   
[Yoosung]: [Cry emoji]

_ There it is again _ , his heart flutters and his mind wanders, he shifts in place and takes a sip of his water.

[Saeran]: A few more hours dummy.     
[Yoosung]: Not right now? [Cry emoji]

_ Fuck _ , he shifts his weight again and frowns.  What was going on with him?  Was he into emojis now?  Did that stupid cartoon his brother made him watch fuck him up somehow?  Was this a new Kink?

“Ayame have you seen my phone?” V turns from his computer to squint at his girlfriend. The sight of the older man wearing three pairs of glasses at once used to catch him off guard but now it just seemed normal.

He watches Ayame stick her hand in the sofa as the chatroom notifies him that “V” has logged out and she smirks at him when she pulls it up and cheers “I found it between the cushions Jagi!”

More text has scrolled by and Saeran is lost in thought, distracted watching Ayame tease V about being forgetful while V scolds her for using the RFA app.  He excuses himself to the bathroom to splash water on his face and try to snap himself out of whatever this is.  He checks his phone just in time for Yoosung to send 3 cry emojis in quick succession and he can feel his heart stop.

Has it just been  _ that _ long?  

Leaning over the sink in Vs bathroom he stares at the chatroom. His brother is teasing Yoosung now, calling him an art widow.  Yoosung complains, he sends another cry emoji, and Saeran can not believe he’s actually hard right now.

[Saeran]: The sooner I log out the sooner I can come home, maybe if you idiots would stop talking.   
[707]: No one forced you in here, little buddy   
[Yoosung has left the chat]   
[707]: Oh oh ohhhhh You’re in trouble!

Saeran closes the app and waits, just like he expects his phone chimes with Yoosung’s ringtone, the only person on his phone to have a custom tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“You said you were coming  _ right home _ ,” and there’s something about the way Yoosung says that that tugs at his mind.

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he says again.

“You know you kind of made a p-promise?”  Yoosung sounds, breathless, his voice catches and Saeran starts to get suspicious.

His concerns about emoji related kinks fade as he remembers the text he’d sent that morning. “Star-Child,” he coos, lowering his voice, “have you been waiting for me all this time?”

“I uh,” Yoosung stammers, he gasps and takes a steadying breath, “I knew you’d be late so-so I w-waited a bit but you’re  _ later _ .”

“Baby, I forgot,” he coos, “what a good boy you are for remembering though.”

“Hng,  _ please,”  _ Yoosung begs and Saeran palms himself through his pants.

“Send me a picture Star-Child,” Saeran coos. There’s at least another hours worth of work before he can get home and make good on whatever Yoosung was expecting.

“W-what?” He hears Yoosung swallow. “A picture? Where are you?”

“Don’t worry cutie, I’m in the bathroom no one will see,” then he thinks better of it, “if you’re brave enough to send me a little video I’ll reward you.”

“A-a reward?” Yoosung pants.

“Mmmhmm,” it would not be the first time Saeran had snuck off to a bathroom for phone sex with his boyfriend and he knows neither Ayame nor V will say anything considering the amount of times he’s covered for her when she’s come into class late with her clothing wrinkled and her hair a mess.

Yoosung hangs up and Saeran grins at his phone when the video pops up. Saeran sticks the second headphone in his ear and hits play as he unbuttons his pants.  He watches Yoosung blushing and holding his shirt in his teeth and then the camera pans until all he sees is Yoosung’s chubby belly and his hard dick, precum pearling on the tip.  There’s a soft gasp as he gives a quick stroke, twisting his wrist at the end, and Saeran bites his lip as Yoosung’’s hips buck up into his fist.

Then his shirt drops down and Saeran hears it, that  _ sound _ .  Almost identical to the sound Yoosung’s crying emoji makes.  He feels his dick twitch against his palm and hits the button to call his boyfriend back.

“God that was fucking hot,” he whispers.

“Y-Yeah?”

“How long have you been like this huh?” Saeran sets his phone on the counter pulls his dick out of his briefs.

“A, um, an h-hour I guess.”

_ God _ , he can picture Yoosung, probably sitting on the couch stroking himself through his sleep pants while he waits for Saeran to get home, he can almost hear the soft sounds he’d make.  He wonders how long it took for him to slip his flannel pants down, did he play with himself first or shove them down in a rush?

He wishes he had gone home, wishes he’d walked through the door to Yoosung panting and playing with himself.  Hard and waiting for him.

“What a good job you’ve done,” he coos.  “An hour and you haven’t cum once?”

“N-no,” Yoosung pants.

“Promise, Star-Child?”

“I didn’t I sw-swear!” Yoosung almost shouts.

“Mmm good boy.”

Another whine and Saeran takes his dick in his fist and pumps himself. 

“Do you want your reward now, or would you like to wait?” He keeps his voice low.  If Yoosung wants to wait he’ll excuse himself, tell Ayame that Yoosung was upset and he should go home. Listen to Yoosung edge himself while V drives him home.

“N-now please,” Yoosung whimpers.

“Mmmm, good choice,” he hums. “What do you want me to do to you Yoosung?”

“Hng,” Yoosung doesn’t answer.

“You want me to suck you off?” He whispers. “Would you rather I fuck you or-”

“I want to fuck you,” Yoosung says suddenly.

“ _ Really _ ?” Saeran swallows.

“I-I want to bend you over an-and-”

“Yoosung,” Saeran interrupts, trying to keep his voice low and steady but it’s barely been two minutes and his hips are already jerking into his fist, “d-do you really want to?”

“Mmnhm,” Yoosung groans

“ _ God _ ,” Saeran breathes. He strokes himself a few more times and tucks his dick back inside his underwear, “Yoosung, I-I’m sorry.  I’ll be right home, don’t you dare cum without me, and don’t fucking hang up.”

He makes that sound again and Saeran takes a deep breath and does his best to adjust himself before he leaves the bathroom.

Judging by V’s untucked shirt and the haphazard way Ayame seems to be sitting in his desk chair Saeran is fairly certain no one is going to argue when he says he’s going to leave.

“I’ll drive you home,” V nods reaching for his keys.

Saeran tries to pretend he doesn’t see the way his friend bites her lip or the look V shoots over his shoulder as they leave the Condo.  He sits in the passenger seat of V’s convertible and presses his thighs together, resisting the urge to try to touch himself while he listens to Yoosung whimpering in his ear.

He’d feel guilty if it wasn’t for the way V kept checking his phone at every light, holding it carefully away from Saeran’s line of sight.

“You know you can say no to her sometimes,” V says with a smirk when Saeran crosses and uncrosses his legs for the third time.

“You should try it,” Saeran snorts as V’s phone vibrates in the cupholder again and the taller man blushes.

Yoosung is whimpering his name like a desperate prayer as he shuts the door to V’s BMW behind him and it’s his turn to blush when V winks and tells him to  _ have fun _ as he pulls away.

Saeran is thankful for empty stairwells and silent hallways as Yoosung’s whimpers and pleas echo through his head.  He undoes the button of his jeans and palms himself as he crests the stairs and makes for their apartment.  He wonders where Yoosung will be as he fumbles with the key.

Will he be in the living room, sitting in the chair where he can watch the door for Saeran to get home?  Or on the couch in case Saeyoung decided to surprise him with a visit.  Will he be hiding in the bedroom where Saeran will have to find him?  Will he still be half dressed or will he have already stripped in anticipation.

It’s all Saeran can do not to throw the door open when he finally gets it unlocked, Yoosung had to have at least started in the main room, he’d locked all three of the doors locks.

Yoosung isn’t in the chair but Saeran doesn’t have to look far to find his boyfriend.  He’s clutching at the cushions of the sofa Jumin had bought them as a housewarming gift, his flannel pants are tossed over the arm. Yoosung’s forehead is pressed to the seat next to his phone and his shirt is tucked up under his chin as he grinds into a pillow on the floor, totally oblivious to anything but following Saeran’s orders.

He’s quiet as he strips off his own clothes, draping his pants and shirt over the back of a dining chair as he softly approaches the scene in front of him.  Not sure if he wants Yoosung to notice him there or not.

He doesn’t.  Saeran settles behind him and reaches around to run his hands up Yoosung’s stomach to his chest as he presses a kiss to his neck.  He likes the way Yoosung’s hips jerk as he gasps.

“Mmm, what a good boy you’ve been, you look so good like this Yoosung, I almost don’t want to stop you.”

“S-S-Sah-hah, Saeran,” he whines pressing back against his boyfriend.

He drags Yoosung back towards him pressing his cock against the crack of his ass and rolling his hips as he drags his tongue along Yoosung’s neck, nipping at his pulse point. “What a pretty pup you are Yoosung,” he coos as he lets his fingers dip low and grasp his boyfriend’s dick.

He doesn’t move his hand as Yoosung whines, and he watches over his boyfriend’s shoulder as he rolls his hips to fuck Saeran’s fist.  Saeran gives him a moment, a few desperate rolls of his hips before he lets go. He runs his fingers over the tip of Yoosung’s cock and ghosts them down his length while he whimpers.

He settles back on his heels and let’s Yoosung go completely, raising his fingers to his mouth when Yoosung turns to face him and sucking them with a smirk as Yoosung reaches to shove his hand aside. He covers Saeran’s mouth in a hungry kiss, pushing his tongue indelicately into Saeran’s mouth and pistoning it desperately as he moves to straddle Saeran’s thighs.  

Saeran moans into the kiss, he runs his hands along Yoosung’s thick thighs and digs his nails into his perfect ass using the leverage to grind up against Yoosung causing him to falter in his desperate kiss and let out another of those lovely whimpers Saeran loved.

“Mmm, Yoosung,” Saeran takes the opportunity to try to bring his boyfriend back to the task at hand, “You-hah-you made a pr-promise,” he tries as Yoosung reaches between them to grasp both their dicks in his hand and stroke. “G-god, you want-wanted to-”

“Hng, I want t-to f-fuck you so bad,” Yoosung groans, face pressed into Saeran’s shoulder.

“Mmm, good boy,” Saeran groans gently moving Yoosung out of his lap.

“I want,” Yoosung whimpers, “I-I w-want-”

Saeran kisses him, pulls him to standing on shaky legs and then pulls Yoosung’s tshirt over his head. “What do you want Star-Child?”

“ _ You _ ,” Yoosung moans pulling Saeran close to suck along his neck and shoulder while his hands travel the dips and curves of Sarean’s chest and waist, his abs and hips and then his ass.

In a swift movement, that Saeran never tires of in it’s rarity, Yoosung grips him by his thighs and lifts him up.  Saeran wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s hips and let’s himself be carried to bedroom.

Yoosung climbs onto their bed and he snatches the bottle of lube from the bedside table.  Saeran watches Yoosung bite his lip as he gets ready to fuck Saeran. He reaches down to stroke himself while he waits.  Yoosung is fastidious in his application of the lube, he watches Saeran while he strokes the lube onto his dick, matching pace with his boyfriend’s strokes before forcing himself to stop and applying more to his fingers.

Yoosung pushes Saeran’s hand away, pressing forward to kiss him as he slips two fingers into Saeran’s ass.  He whines as Yoosung curls his fingers, stretching and teasing him.  Saeran rolls his hips, fucking Yoosung’s fingers while Yoosung sucks at his collarbone and teases a nipple with his free hand.

It feels good, and Saeran can never tell what turns him on more when Yoosung decides to fuck him.  The delicate yet forceful way Yoosung moves, that extra step he takes to make sure things feel good while still being absolutely in control.  Or the way he goes from whining and needy,  _ begging _ Saeran to let him fuck him, to carrying him into the bedroom and slipping his thick fingers inside Saeran’s ass.  

The way his face changes from desperate and concerned to a knowing smirk as he kisses his way down Saeran’s body, fingers still working, curling and stretching while he drags his tongue the length of Saeran’s cock before swallowing it to the hilt.

Saeran doesn’t fantasize often, should the urge arise Yoosung has almost always obliged whatever he’s craving but in the very rare moment that Saeran finds himself alone and wanting this is the Yoosung he imagines.  The burning lavender eyes piercing him from between his thighs as he is deconstructed by fingers and mouth.

A man made for pleasure, hovering over him and wordlessly commanding him to raise his hips and fuck his face as he fucks himself on Yoosung’s fingers.  He could die here in this moment and have no complaints.  For a brief moment as Yoosung’s fingers find that spot inside him he thinks he might and he feels a strange sort of peace.

Then the fingers are gone and Yoosung has him by the hips pulling him down on the bed and then pressing against his entrance.  Yoosung enters him slowly, always slowly as if every time is the first time when in reality Saeran had been doing this long before YS was even an image on a screen to covet.  

When Yoosung is fully sheathed he leans over to trail kisses along Saeran’s jaw.  Saeran whines, he rolls his hips and arches his back but no amount of encouragement will move Yoosung before he’s ready.  Yoosung’s hands travel Saeran’s body, thick fingers on narrow hips, tracing the lines of Saeran’s abdomen and then dancing along his ribs as if he was a piano to be tuned.

Saeran’s song begins with the first curl of his hips, a soft whimper followed by a groan as Yoosung takes his nipple between thumb and finger and twists just enough, and then another slow roll of his hips as he pulls and pushes Saeran’s thighs, training his voice to reach the pitches he likes.

Saeran throws an arm over his face, red and blushing, unable to stop the sound spilling from his lips, hating his usually boisterous boyfriend for turning him into this but not wanting him to stop.  Yoosung leans forward, bracing himself on one arm as he picks up speed, pressing soft kisses to the forearm in his way as he waits and when Saeran finally let’s his arm slip to his side Yoosung rewards him with a smug smile and twines their fingers together.

Yoosung kisses him, starting out soft.  Quick chaste pecks despite the thrust of his hips that turn demanding in an instant, drawing Saeran’s tongue out to fuck into his mouth the way he likes to give head.  Saeran can’t help but give in to his unspoken demands, lapping at his boyfriend's mouth until the kiss is broken and Yoosung bows his head, the first of those soft moans spilling from his mouth.

He presses his sweat damp forehead against Saeran’s shoulder and his pace falters, another broken moan crosses his lips and he looks up red cheeked, brow furrowed. “Nnhg S-Saeran are you c-close yet?”

He doesn’t answer, just smirks and rolls his hips, fucking back against Yoosung to earn another one of those moans he loves.  Saeran doesn’t care who cums first or if they cum together never has, he knows Yoosung will take care of him regardless.

Yoosung cares, he moves to pin Saeran’s hips to the bed when they buck against him and stifles another moan as he forces himself to frown.  “P-please, can you, hng, g-god.”

Yoosung’s hands move from hips to cock and he works Saeran with both hands, he pumps his fist along his boyfriends cock while tugging gently at his balls, all the while keeping himself still.  Every twitch drawing little whines and whimpers past his lips.

Saeran loves this.  He raises his hips to fuck into Yoosung’s fist and and then back to fuck himself on his dick.  He’s been close since the moment Yoosung had pressed lips to his forearm.  He doesn’t care who cums first but Yoosung does and Yoosung likes for them to come together.  He watches Yoosung staring down at him, lidded Lilac eyes dark with want, his mouth frozen slightly open, tongue trapped between his teeth.

He lets the groan build, holds his breath until he’s forced to let it out, a broken needy sound that echos off their soundproofed walls and Yoosung bucks into him.  Lets go of his balls and throws that hand out to catch himself as he fucks Saeran.  Any thought to holding back lost to the urgency of his building orgasm.

Saeran doesn’t hold back the needy whines and whimpers that bubble past his lips, he pushes Yoosung’s hand away and strokes himself, fast and hard as their apartment fills with the sounds of their names mixed with curses and the wet sounds of skin against skin.

They cum together, like Yoosung wants. Despite how rarely this happens Saeran is practiced at holding himself off until Yoosung’s hips stutter and his mouth moves forming the soundless shape of his name.

“Good boy, Yoosung,” he whispers pressing soft kisses into blond hair when Yoosung collapses on top of him.  He reaches between the bed and the nightstand for the cloth they keep there, he hates to push Yoosung away almost as much as he hates the feel of being covered in cum.

Saeran cleans them both up, peppering kisses along Yoosung’s flushed and heaving chest before tossing the cloth over the edge of the bed and dragging his boyfriend under the covers.  Yoosung clings, curling himself on top of and around his boyfriend. Whispering sweet sleepy words into his chest.

It’s early for them to go to sleep, too early really, and they’ll both be up much earlier than they have any need to be tomorrow but as Yoosung yawns and shifts on top of him Saeran finds he doesn’t have it in himself to care.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a bad idea.  Yoosung yawns and stretches and lets himself sprawl out into the empty spot in the bed where his boyfriend should be fast asleep, snoring softly even though he swears he doesn’t.  He knows he shouldn’t have wrapped himself around Saeran like that.  He was exhausted and for good reason but he should have rolled over.  Left the other man able to get up, to putter about until a reasonable time to go to sleep.

Yoosung can sleep, wherever, whenever, for as long as he’d like.  If it weren’t for the guilt he feels he’d do that now. Snuggle deeper into warm blankets that still smell like Saeran and sex and everything nice in his life and drift back off to sleep until he feels warm sun on his shoulders.  

Saeran can not sleep, not well, not without Yoosung.  He’d admitted once after a drink or two too many that  _ even before _ he slept better when Yoosung had stayed at the bunker, asleep on the couch or in Saeyoung’s mostly abandoned room.  Saeran was up when he woke, there was no rolling over and falling back asleep, if Saeran Choi’s eyes opened at 4am that was when his day started.

Yoosung might feel too guilty to let himself fall back asleep but it wasn’t guilty enough not to pin his boyfriend under his sleep heavy body, exhausted from hours of edging and waiting. Not guilty enough to stop the fingers from combing through his hair or rubbing circles on his back.  Not guilty enough now to keep him from wasting a little more time, laying here as still as he can.

He knows the moment he reaches for his phone to check the time he’ll hear the soft pad of Saeran’s sock feet on the wood floor of the hall, the door will open just a crack and Saeran will say-

“Morning Star-Child I’m just going to put the eggs on.”

Yoosung jumps, he squeaks and he blushes.  He doesn’t ask how Saeran does that anymore, too many shrugs, too many sad smiles, and forehead kisses and  _ you already know my tragic backstory, Jagiya _ .  

Saeran disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived in the doorway.  Yoosung feels bad again as he reaches for his phone.  It’s barely 5am and he didn’t have to be anywhere until the afternoon but Saeran had classes all day.

There’s a notification on his phone and he’s feeling mildly petulant at Saeran’s ability to know exactly when he wakes up so Yoosung checks it.  The twins have been in a chatroom since just after 4am.  Saeran was still in it, had probably set his phone down and forgotten about it when his brother had logged out.  

He can hear the alert on his boyfriend’s phone when he logs into the chat.

[707]: Ohhh early morning Little Bro, you have to sleep on the couch?   
[707]: Was our widdle Yoosungie a widdle bit grumpy   
[707]: Little bro, Little bro, did you get in trouble?   
[Saeran]: Can you mute Yoosung’s crying emoji?   
[707]: I dunno   
[Saeran]: Well do it or I’ll have to   
[707]: Little bro!  I thought you were done with your life of crime!   
[Saeran]: Cracking your stupid app isn’t a fucking crime and stop calling me little bro, I’m 7 minutes older than you.   
[707]: But so much smaller!   
[Saeran]: Fuck off just do it ok?   
[707]: I mean I can but I’m swamped right now, so like next week probably   
[Saeran]: How did you even get that sound?   
[707]: Hmm    
[707]: [confused emoji]   
[707]: whhhhhhhhy?   
[Saeran]: Fuck off nevermind   
[707]: hmmmm?   
[Saeran]: omfg   
[707]: Fine, I’ll just have to make something up, it’s probably boring anyway.

[707] has left the chat.

Yoosung isn’t sure why he does it.  Well the first time he knows.  He wants too see if there was still a sound.  Sometimes Saeyoung would claim he was too busy as he finished the thing you’d asked him to do.

[Yoosung]: [cry emoji]   
[Saeran]: Stop fucking around the eggs are ready.

The second, third, and fourth time were just to see what happened.

On the second emoji he heard Saeran drop something, a fork maybe.  The third brought about a frustrated groan.  The fourth came with the sound of a frying pan hitting the stove harder than it should have.

[Saeran]: Yoosung…

He sends another with a smirk on his face.  He’s sure the sound is simply annoying, he’d thought the same thing himself, but this time the sound is followed by heavy footsteps in the hall, the door to their room being shoved open and Saeran climbing over him in the bed.

He shoves the blankets aside as he climbs between Yoosung’s thighs and takes him by the hair before covering his mouth in a kiss that draws every bit of air from his lungs.  Saeran grabs him by the ass and adjusts Yoosung’s hips so that he can grind against him.

Yoosung is still naked from the night before but Saeran has dressed in cotton sleep pants and a tank top. The cool air makes the usually soft fabric feel rough against his skin and Saeran is already half hard as he grinds against him.  “ _ God _ ,” he grumbles pressing wet kisses down Yoosung’s chest. “You did that on purpose, the eggs are going to be cold.”

Yoosung isn’t sure what he’s done on purpose and as he watches the hungry way Saeran licks his lips while he reaches for Yoosung’s cock he’s not sure he cares about cold eggs.

He tries to look smug, tries to mimic that cocky self assured smile the Choi twins were known for as Saeran slips his glasses off and rests them on the bedside table.  Golden eyes keep him trapped in place and any illusion that he had, in fact, orchestrated this situation is tossed out the window.

He watches Saeran trace his fingers with his tongue and then trace the wet fingers along the underside of his cock.  Yoosung was hard, he was hard every morning, he’d assumed it was normal, everyone talked about morning wood right? But Jisu had always seemed put off, and Saeran had teased him in the early days.  Not like  _ this. _

“Always so hard,” Saeran coos, gathering up a pearl of precum with his thumb and spreading it along Yoosung’s tip.  “Always fucking  _ ready _ first thing in the morning,” Saeran wraps one finger and thumb around Yoosung’s cock and strokes him slowly to the base.  Try as he might there is no suppressing the whimper he makes, the slight twitch of his hips. “What filthy dreams you must have.”

“I-I don’t,” Yoosung whines, “hng-ah, I don’t remember.”

“Hmm,” Saeran smirks and Yoosung watches him move his free hand to the tie of his pajama pants, ‘that’s no good, are you lying to me?”

He watches Saeran suck in his bottom lip as he wiggles his pants down around his thighs.

“I’m n-not!” He pleads, his hands fisting in the sheets at his hips as Saeran drags the flat of his tongue the length of his dick.  “G-god.”

“It’s not n-nice to t-tease, Yoosung,” Saeran pants forehead pressed against his hip, hot breath ghosting across his balls.

“I’m n-not-Hah!” Yoosung tries to argue as Saeran’s mouth covers him swallowing every inch of him and then stopping.  Nose pressed into curly brown hair and Yoosung fights the urge to buck as his boyfriend’s throat constricts around his cock.

Saeran pulls back with a gasp and a cough and wry smile before he does it again and this time Yoosung can’t help himself. Not with Saeran’s wet mouth wrapped around him, tongue working methodically along his length.  Not with the steady jerk of his arm as he works himself moaning around Yoosung’s dick.  Definitely not with the sounds he’s making and those golden eyes watching him.  

Yoosung’s hands move from his side and he buries them in messy, sleep tangled hair.  He holds Saeran there, gasping and moaning and fucking his own hand as Yoosung rolls his hips into his mouth. One delicate hand wraps around Yoosung’s balls and tugs, a slow steady pressure until Yoosung gasps, he loosens his hold on his boyfriend’s hair and Saeran pulls back choking and coughing and smiling smugly up at him through wet unfocused eyes.

Saeran never stops the movement of his hand on his dick as he lets Yoosung guide him back down, sucking and moaning and lapping at the hard flesh in his mouth until he stops.  Yoosung watches, tugging lightly at Saeran’s hair as his arm stutters and stops but his hips keep moving and the moans vibrating through his dick turn to gasps and sighs.

Yoosung knows he’s close, he knows Saeran’s going to cum and the thought that sucking his dick did this to his boyfriend spurs him to move his hands, to take Saeran by his face and roll his hips into his mouth.

He holds him by his cheeks as he grinds his pelvis into his face, every gasp, every groan, every gag a symphony of stimulation and Yoosung watches, as those pretty golden eyes squeeze shut, as narrow hips stutter and teeth scrape against him with less thought.

Saeran’s moans are desperate as Yoosung pistons in and out of his mouth. Moans and whimpers turn to whines and frantic sounds. “Hah, Sa-Sae-hng, f- _ fuck. _ ”

His hands drop from Saeran’s face and he falters, still thrusting up into that waiting sucking mouth but with less resistance and he almost loses it, almost feels that building pressure in his groin fade until hands press his hips into the bed.

He opens his eyes to find golden ones staring back at him as his boyfriend’s head bobs along his cock, cheeks hollowing tongue working and Yoosung throws his head back, anchoring himself with hands on Saeran’s arms as he cums.

Saeran keeps him trapped.  His face pressed into Yoosung’s groin, throats muscles constricting as he swallows using his tongue to work the dick in his mouth until he’s certain he’s gotten every drop and then smirking up at him.  He hollows his cheeks and bobs his head making soft satisfied noises as Yoosung twitches and gasps and whimpers.

Until frantic hands press at his face, “Please, please,  _ please, please _ ,” the words bubble past Yoosung’s lips like a frantic prayer, begging him but at a loss for any word but, “ _ please.” _

Saeran runs gentle fingers along Yoosung’s balls and the blond twitches and jerks while he pulls slowly back until the softening dick in his mouth falls wet against Yoosung’s thigh but he isn’t finished with him.  Saeran presses wet, swollen lips along Yoosung’s thigh up his hip.  His takes Yoosung in his hand and strokes.

“Hngg, S-Saeran please, w-why,” Yoosung whines, his hips jerk and he tries to crawl up the bed away from his boyfriend, and that sadistic look he sees in his eyes.

Saeran throws one leg over Yoosung’s thigh and holds him there, waiting, but Yoosung never says stop, he whines and he twitches and he screws his face up but he never once says  _ no _ , never says  _ Saeran stop _ , never says  _ enough _ .

He climbs his boyfriend. Yoosung, formally only taller than him by just over an inch, had recently had a growth spurt and now Saeran finds himself standing on tiptoes to steal a kiss more often than he’d like to admit.  He climbs his boyfriend until he has to move his knee to straddle Yoosung’s thighs.  

He takes a second to adjust, to make sure he can take both their dicks in his hand and then he leans forward to take Yoosung by the hair and pull him up pressing kisses to his neck.

“S-Saeran,” Yoosung whines, his hips jerk and stutter into Saeran’s hand.

“You were  _ t-teasing _ me,” Saeran scolds rolling his hips and nipping at Yoosung’s collar bone.

Yoosung didn’t know he was teasing, he didn’t know what he’d done.  He wracks his brain as best he can, giving into the whines, giving into the burning in his belly as another orgasm tears it’s way to the surface.

He clings to Saeran and he can’t tell if he’s fucking Saeran’s hand or trying to escape from it.

“Mmm, that’s my good boy,” Saeran coos against his neck, “my sw-sweet pup, G-god Star-Child, can you cum for me again?”

Yoosung wants to answer, wants to beg, he wants him to stop and he wants him to never stop, he wants to cum and he wants to sit in a hot bath alone.  Even as he fights the urge to beg Saeran to stop he knows he doesn’t want him to, his body might, the tension in his balls and the burning in his belly tell him he should but Yoosung can’t make himself say those words.  

“So g-good,” Saeran coos, and Yoosung is vaguely aware that at some point he’s used lube from the table on the dicks in his hand, he’s vaguely aware of the sting of bites on his shoulder and chest. “God, you’re f-fucking hot, Yoosung, listen to you.”

Yoosung can’t hear himself he can only hear Saeran, that soft voice praising him and drawing more whines and whimpers.  He feels them tumble past his lips but he can’t hear them only;

“G-good boy, sweet boy, what a good pup, Yoosung, Yoosung,” Saeran’s praise tapers off until he’s only whispering his name in harmony with Yoosung’s whines and whimpers as they both fuck into Saeran’s hand against each other.

Yoosung has never been happier for the soundproofed walls of their new apartment as he screams out his orgasm, head thrown back, throat raw from the force of the sound, Saeran rutting into his hand and grunting into his neck as his release follows. 

Yoosung slumps over him, still not entirely certain what he’d done to deserve this.  He isn’t accustomed to Saeran want to fuck in the mornings. Usually for Yoosung to wake up like this Saeran would be just coming to bed.

Usually mornings were for chaste kisses, light brushes of hands.  Yoosung was a clingy sleeper and Saeran usually woke up touched out and needing time.  Time to wake up, readjust, let his meds kick in.  Rare mornings would have Yoosung’s face pressed into a pillow, Saeran complaining about the sounds he’d made in his sleep.

Complaining that he made him do  _ this _ as he’d slap his ass tug his head back by the hair. He’s always rougher before his meds kick in but Yoosung doesn’t mind, likes it even.

He wonders, thinking back to the accusations Saeran had made,  _ filthy dreams _ and  _ teasing. _  Saeran is laying him down and pressing soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks, his temples and nose.   _ Had _ he been dreaming?  He didn’t remember but Saeran had shown him a video once. 

Fast asleep, Yoosung’s face pressed into Saeran’s chest, hands fisting in his tshirt as he ground his hips into his boyfriend’s thighs.  Yoosung had blushed and covered his face at the sounds he’d been making in the video and Saeran had teased him.  Had that happened again.

He closes his eyes and listens to Saeran hum as he runs his fingers through Yoosung’s hair, “Are you ok?” He asks softly with a kiss on his nose, “Was that too much, Yoosung?”

“Mmm,” Yoosung sighs gathering Saeran’s hand in his own and kissing his knuckles, “S’not, it was good.  I’m fine.”  His whole body felt like jelly, sure, but they’d been so busy, it was a welcomed sort of feeling.  Sore and satisfied, he wished they had the whole day to do this.

The bed shifts and Saeran is gone for only a minute before he returns with a warm damp cloth.  He starts with Yoosung’s face, had he cried?  He hadn’t even noticed.  Saeran rests his head on Yoosung’s chest as he runs the cloth down his body, his movement is gentle.  It’s soft and soothing as he cleans him and whispers soft encouragements.

“I thought you said something about eggs,” Yoosung yawns, pressing a kiss to Saeran’s hair.

“They’re cold rubbery lumps now,” Saeran pouts, sitting up to drape the cloth over the metal bed frame.

“Mmm,” Yoosung chuckles, “my favorite.” He pushes himself to sitting and stretches before he reaches for his phone again.  

An hour has passed, he’s not sure how.  Everything had seemed to happen so fast.  It’s another 90 minutes before Saeran has to be at his first class, only an hour if he has to meet with his mentor first.  They push themselves to the edge of the bed and smile at one another.

“I guess it’s time to get dressed huh?” Saeran snorts pushing his pants the rest of the way down.

“Do you have time to go to the coffee shop?” Yoosung asks, digging through a pile of laundry on the floor for his favorite jeans,  “I feel bad we didn’t get to eat your breakfast.”

“No you don’t,” Saeran laughs, tossing the pants he’s looking for on the bed.  “You’re not even a little fucking guilty you asshole.”

“That’s not true,” Yoosung smiles pulling on yesterday's boxers before snatching the jeans off the bed. “I feel a  _ little _ guilty.”

He watches Saeran shimmy into a pair of torn skinny jeans, he watches him sniff the tank top he’s wearing and the way his face contorts while he tries to decide if he wants to spend his day smelling mildly like sex and abandoned breakfasts before he pulls it over his head and tosses it in the hamper.

Yoosung pulls a tshirt off the floor and grabs his purple hoodie while Saeran digs through his dresser for a tshirt and a flannel.

Saeran buys the drinks and Yoosung buys breakfast at the bakery next to the coffee shop.  He orders the world’s biggest frappe, with extra syrup and extra whip, he doesn’t even have to ask anymore and they cover it with entirely too much caramel and chocolate.  Yoosung smiles when he spots him from the door, in the little sofa in the back corner.

A phone number is scribbled in feminine handwriting on the paper of one of the sandwiches and Saeran smirks at him when he sits down.  Yoosung blushes. “She’s very nice,” he shrugs and tries to look less embarrassed.

Saeran nods, “And you’re very cute.”

Yoosung covers his face and whines, “ _ Stop _ .”

“I could go tell her how you blatantly refuse to use a laundry hamper?  She probably wouldn’t think you’re so cute anymore if she knew you’ve been wearing that shirt for 3 days.” Saeran laughs and wraps his arm around Yoosung.

“Why are you being so  _ mean _ ?’ Yoosung teases him back.

“Probably because my terrible boyfriend teased me until I fucked him silly and  _ ruined _ my breakfast plans,” Saeran snorts and takes a bite of the sandwich Yoosung bought for him. He makes a satisfied yum sound as he chews and smiles, “This almost makes up for it though, thanks.”

Yoosung picks his coffee up off the table in front of them and leans back into Saeran as he takes a sip.  “I didn’t  _ mean _ to tease you,” his whispers, the faint pink in his cheeks turning dark.  “I can’t help what I do in my sleep I  _ don’t even remember _ what I was dreaming about.”

Saeran snorts and chokes a little on his coffee.  Yoosung sits up and pulls him forward patting his back as he catches his breath.  When Saeran stops gagging and settles back against the sofa Yoosung takes a bite of his own sandwich and eyes him suspiciously.

“What?” Saeran says, eyes still damp but trying to look smug.

“I-uh,” Yoosung glances down at his hands. “It wasn’t a dream this time was it?” he says softly and then he frowns at Saeran.

“ _ What _ ?” Saeran looks confused too, and there’s a distinct blush behind his freckles as he ducks his head and busies himself with the straw in his frappe.

Yoosung takes another bite of his sandwich and waits for Saeran to stop before he shoves him. “You  _ jerk _ , what did I  _ do? _ ”

Saeran’s ears are red now, poking out from under white hair and he stares at Yoosung mouth slightly agape. “ _ Wait _ , no you mean that  _ wasn’t _ on purpose?”

“ _ What _ did I do?” Yoosung asks, resisting the urge to throw his full hands over his head.

“Y-you read what I said to Saeyoung though,” Saeran mumbles to himself around another bite.

“Yeah I know it’s an annoying sound, ok,  _ fine _ .” Yoosung grumbles but Saeran’s eyes shift down and he sucks in air between clenched teeth.

“No, Yoosung, listen, how did he even  _ get _ that sound?” Saeran asks, his voice is low, and unusually possessive.

“He, uh,” Yoosung has to think, it’s been so long, they’d all met up at Jumin’s one day and recorded the spoken lines, he’d been embarrassed mostly but then, “he snuck up on me coming out of the bathroom,” Yoosung frowns.  “He hid and uh, I think he tickled me?  I don’t know.  Why does it matter.”

Saeran swallows and still won’t look at him.  “It’s just, uh, you know-”

“Annoying,” Yoosung finishes with and angry drink from his coffee cup.

“God no Yoosung, you makes that sound when we’re, you know,  _ when we fuck _ .” Saeran has put the sandwich down to cover his face. “It’s uh, it’s really hot.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I didn’t notice before,” Saeran says, face still buried in his hands, “I don’t know why, but then last night, you don’t use it a lot any more and I was looking through those mind numbing progress reports and, oh my fucking  _ god _ .”

“Wait,” Yoosung smiles, for once he’s the one pulling hands away from blushing cheeks, for once he’s the one forcing Saeran to look him in the eye, “you mean the  _ emoji _ turned you on?”

“No!” Saeran says a bit too loud and a few heads turn towards them as Yoosung starts to laugh. “N-no, it, it was the fucking sound, fuck off.”

“Saeran, oh my god, an emoji turned you on,” Yoosung laughs and Saeran shoves him.


End file.
